We've known this since the week she was born. KC was sometimes a fussy baby, but Art would patiently carry, cuddle and comfort her until she would go back to sleep.
He never tired of giving her his undivided attention. If the rest of us were too tired, Grandpa was always there to love her and let her know he would always be there for her.
At first she called him "Papa," but now she can clearly say "Grandpa." When she sees him appearing on Skype, her face lights up.
In Illinois, Art would take her around our village for walks even though he'd end up having to carry her at times when she'd decide she had enough exercise.I have to laugh because when our kids were growing up, Art was the one who could exert more discipline. He almost never raised his voice. It just took one little exhale and you'd hear Jon say, "Why is Dad mad? He's mad, right?" When I'd explain that Art was just tired from a long day at work, Jon would say, "I don't think so. He just did THE SIGH."
Tif said, "I hope you don't mind, Mom."Of course, I don't mind. How could I be jealous that Art is KC's best friend? Not at all. Not one remote bit, because he's my best friend, too.
